Strands
by Lady Nephenee Ranulf
Summary: Regal gets out of a shower; Presea offers to comb his hair. Mild Regal/Presea fluff, written for talesofexchange 2008


Written for Kaiousei for talesofexchange '08 on LJ, so this is kind of old. (There, I've outed myself...) The prompt was "Regal/Presea", and if you disagree with the pairing, I don't know why you've even bothered to click on this. As for me, I think it's cute. There. I said it. Just remember: make cookies not hate, yeah?

Disclaimer goes here.

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Strands

Sometimes Regal wondered how he had done without his hands, although why he would choose now, just out of a shower, was beyond him. Maybe it was because he could move the towel as he wished now, without having to constantly contort his arms into strange positions as he tried to control the fabric. Still, after spending fifteen years in chains, his arms and brain had not yet properly re-coordinated the movement, and he found himself having to pause and readjust when both arms subconsciously moved in tandem, smoothing out his damp hair rather than wringing the moisture from the strands. He'd wandered into his bedroom at this point, the back of the shirt he'd thrown on soaked through.

It was in this predicament that Presea found him. The pink-haired girl had stared quizzically at first, but then she'd given him what _looked_ like a smile. (He couldn't be quite sure if just one corner of her mouth turned up slightly, but it was a great improvement from the previous month.)

"You are in difficulty," Presea noted.

"Well-observed," Regal replied wryly. He gave up on the towel, flinging it on his bed, and instead shook his head violently, sending droplets of water flying everywhere.

Presea laughed quietly as she shielded her face with her hands from the miniature deluge. "You're soaking me, Regal."

"Just as well that you don't lecture me. I was unfortunate enough to allow George that privilege yesterday." Regal picked the towel up and walked back into the bathroom to hang it up properly. "Hopefully I'll adjust soon; I rather dislike acting like a dog." He grabbed his comb from the sink top.

In an instant Presea had stridden across the length of the room and more, placing a gloved hand over his pale wrist. "Allow me," she said calmly. When he started, she continued: "I apologize for my rashness, but there is a high chance that you will end up giving yourself more strife."

There was logic in that, so he complied, releasing the comb and allowing her to take it up in turn.

She walked primly back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, patting the spot to the left of her. "Come over here."

Regal walked over, rubbing his wrist absent-mindedly. It was slightly warm where she'd touched it; he wasn't quite sure if that was completely of her own doing. _Who's ever heard of a wrist blushing?_ He sat down in the indicated spot.

"Turn your head a bit to the left, please." He did so. She slid the comb through a mass of blue strands, frowning as she worked through the knots and tangles. For a few minutes there was nothing but the sound of their breathing and an occasional "hrm" of frustration from Presea as she encountered a particularly vexing knot.

Regal broke the quiet: "It's a little irrelevant to say this now, but you know I am perfectly capable of combing my own hair."

"I wanted to comb it," she said.

"Why?" He twisted slightly to look at her, confusion evident on his face.

"I just did. It looks very nice when it's clean. Please move your head back. I can't reach the other side of your hair if you're looking at me like that."

Regal obeyed. "I was considering trimming it, incidentally." He sighed, careful to not put too much motion into it lest he disturb Presea in her work. "Society does have its standards."

Presea stopped. "I like your hair the way it is, Regal. It'd be a little shocking if you suddenly cut it." She ran a hand loosely through his bangs, ending down at the curve of his jaw. "It just looks right, I think," she deadpanned.

Regal shuddered: her touch left his skin tingling pleasantly underneath. Presea, surprised by his sudden motion, pulled her hand away hurriedly. "Oh!" Her eyes were wide. "I…I'm sorry. I just got caught up in the moment…" She looked away bashfully, a pale pink tinge showing on her cheeks.

"No, it's alright." Regal turned and caught her hand. "It felt very nice, in fact." He smiled to reassure her and pressed a brief kiss on the top of her hand. "And if you like my hair the way it is that much, I'm perfectly fine with keeping it at its current length."

The pink on Presea's face had deepened wonderfully. Even though she still had trouble articulating her exact emotions, it was crystal clear how she felt at the moment. "Regal, this tight feeling in my chest…uhm…" The question was left unfinished; she suddenly felt very awkward.

"Well, what do you think it is?" Regal asked, pushing her lightly to try to express how she felt on her own.

"This is…love." Presea whispered.

"The seeds of it, no doubt," Regal answered.

"Then do I…?" Wide eyes regarded him.

"That's for you to figure out," the older man said kindly. "I can't push your feelings to develop in any direction, but…you should know that I feel somewhat the same." He cleared his throat. "Are you alright with that?" He couldn't be too sure: this was her sister's murderer she was considering. There was also the considerable _age difference_, but he'd given that plenty of consideration. (It wasn't like he was a pervert…)

"I think…I think I still need to wait before I know." Presea's face was unreadable. "There is a chance that this could all pass; I want to know for sure."

"Then take your time." He kissed her hand once more and then stood up. "I won't disappear on you." Regal disappeared into his closet.

"Regal…?"

"Business calls," was the cheery answer. "I have a state function to attend in a matter of hours, and any moment now George is going to burst in here to check on me."

"I see." Presea picked up his comb and got up to put it away. "I'll make sure everything is fine while you're out for the evening." There was a grunt of agreement from Regal. "Take care."

She was nearly halfway out the door when he called, "Presea?"

The girl paused. "Yes?"

"Thank you for your help."

She waited for ten seconds more, wondering if he was going to say anything else to her, but alas- nothing. (But really, what had she been expecting?) What was it that one said in this situation? Ah, yes, that was it.

Presea smiled genuinely. "You're welcome, Regal."


End file.
